Wen Wan thought, since she had such an extraordinary ability, she couldn't always find excuses whenever she had a premonition; she must find a way to let her husband know.
If you can't speak, write. If you can't write, learn. Can a living person really be suffocated by urine?
However, after fiddling around in the study for half an afternoon, she only learned to write her name, with Song Wei teaching her hand-in-hand.
She remembered the strokes, remembered the order, remembered how to pronounce it, but when using the brush to piece it together, it looked like it had been chewed by a dog, not square or proper, crooked and awkward beyond watching.
Wen Wan looked at what she wrote and then at Song Wei's manuscript beside her; the difference was stark, and a sense of gap arose naturally.
Song Wei saw the little girl looking downcast, put down his brush, and softly said, "Considering it's your first time using a brush, being able to write like this is already quite commendable."
